


Paradise Found

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Ending, House of M., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda's creation isn't perhaps as perfect as it appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm reading the "House of M" saga at the moment – good stuff! – and am generally obsessed with a) the idea that the rest of the team and the Avengers, et al believe that Magneto somehow forced Charles to reveal everyone's fantasy of a perfect existence so that Wanda could make it all happen and is keeping him sequestered away somewhere to ensure that everything remains that way (even though they've been playing house on Genosha for several months together and Charles seems at least as torn up by Wanda's mental crisis as Erik is), and b) the infamous picture that gokuma originally showed me where it's implied that Erik spends pretty much all of his time mourning near the monument to Charles in his garden. This mostly concerns the latter; it was meant to be another fill for firstclass100's "Vision" prompt, but as usual, it spiraled rapidly beyond the 100-300-word ideal and kind of took on a life of its own. Future chapters will answer separate "what if?" scenarios in the House of M. universe.

Wanda is pleased with herself for conjuring up the House of Magneto, where everybody lives their perfect life. "We're all so happy, Daddy," she murmurs, and Erik Magnus Lehnsherr kisses her forehead and closes his eyes sadly. "Aren't we?" she asks after several minutes, sensing his stiffness.

"We are," he says, but thinks, 'no, you got it wrong, so wrong,' and thinks about the monument to Charles Xavier in the dead center of the lush gardens, filled with the rarest and loveliest of all Genoshan flora. He closes his eyes, willing tears not to form.

Wanda goes to bed quietly contrite that evening, and Erik stays up, ostensibly reading. Finally, his eyes are weary enough for him to flick off the lamp with a single gesture and retire to his rooms, alone; always alone, and so very lonely. Sometimes, he wonders whether there's some cosmic imbalance that prevents him from finding utopia; that, in order for everybody else's lives to be right, his must be just the slightest bit off. That night, he dreams in melancholy shades of blue.

Morning comes beautifully as it always does, and Erik rolls over … into a heavy lump that slightly depresses his bed. He blinks in surprise, sits up groggily … and gasps brokenly.

"Charles?"

Charles yawns. His blue, blue eyes open, and Erik feels weak. "How?" he croaks, afraid to move, afraid this is the same dream as always. Shakily, his hand reaches out to stroke the familiar bald head. Glancing down, he realizes that Charles is dressed in traditional royal robes, and that they fit him to a tee. "Can you – do you remember … anything?" Erik manages, and thinks it must be a bad sign that Charles hasn't reacted to him yet.

"So sorry … was still … waking up," Charles finally gets out. Erik continues to gawk at him, and Charles outright laughs at the tentative 'are you real?' that filters through Erik's head and into his. "I believe so," he says, mouth curving into a soft smile. He cocks his head as an image of his memorial floats into his mind, provided by Erik. "I don't think it's there anymore, Erik. I'm not sure I completely understand why I'm back, but …" He's cut off by Erik shoving him onto his back, wrapping the smaller man tightly in his arms and burying his face into Charles' neck. Embarrassed, he squeezes his eyes shut to block tears, but a few of them slip out nonetheless. Kindly, Charles does not comment on it.

Eventually, Erik manages to regain some composure. "Is it … are you in any pain?" he asks, glancing up. Charles shakes his head quickly.

"Again, my memories of my time … away … are fuzzy, but mostly, it felt like waking up from a very long nap." He flexes his leg muscles a bit, and Erik loosens his grip, elated to realize simultaneously that, in fact, Charles can walk here. Overtaken once more with emotion, he grits his teeth, trying not to outright sob.

"I'm sorry."

"Ssshh." Charles cups his face, and then wipes underneath one eye with the pad of his thumb, and then the other, his face arranged into a placid smile. Suddenly, a soft rumbling causes them both to look down. "I believe that's me," Charles says sheepishly, and is relieved to see Erik crack a smile.

"Are you hungry?" Erik makes to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He watches Charles curiously as the other man presses two fingers lightly to his temple, a gesture so familiar that it makes Erik's chest ache. Charles' thoughts are to the kitchen staff, but he allows Erik to hear them: 'Lord Magnus will be taking breakfast in his rooms this morning. For two. Thank you.' He's barely finished relaying the message when he's pinned again, this time with Erik dotting his face with kisses. Their lips meet and pull apart sweetly, and Charles strokes at Erik's silvery hair. "Will there be consequences for this, do you think?" Erik frowns, his face suddenly etched with worry, threatening to unravel into fresh grief.

Charles strokes his face lovingly. "If there are, I suppose we'll deal with them," he says simply, his voice thoughtful. "We're together now, Erik. Forever. Whatever happens, nothing will change that again."

"Yes," Erik agrees, and Charles can feel his heartbeat when he presses a hand to Erik's firm, bare chest. Briefly, he thinks of Wanda and smiles blissfully against the side of Charles' face, savoring every texture, each breath that Charles takes. "Everything is truly perfect, now."


	2. Charles' Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up running with the idea that Charles did, in fact, sacrifice himself to 'save' Genosha. The comic/Wikipedia is very shifty about it, though it is mentioned that Erik's memorial for Charles does not contain a body, so it doesn't seem like such a stretch that he made some sort of spiritual/other-worldly sacrifice, a la "Buffy" or "Sailor Moon." Anywho, warning for character death, obviously.

When the rag-tag group of superheroes and mutants arrive on Genosha, Charles insists to a reluctant Callisto ("it's dangerous, Charlie, what if something happens to you?") to let him have a moment alone with Wanda. ("I'll be fine. Everything will be fine.") He senses that Erik is nearby, but ... no, he thinks, best not to make this any more difficult.

Wanda's mind churns in distress; Charles is immediately bombarded with myriad emotions at just the barest touch of her psyche with his. At the forefront, he sees, is an image of Wanda's nonexistent children; when she finds out that they're not real, that essentially, they're being ripped away from her by the fabric of reality, she screams and screams. The scene replays several times before Charles commands her mind to be still. "Stop."

When he removes the mental blocks again, Wanda remains momentarily calm, and then cocks her head. She looks small and delicate in her white nightgown, perched on the edge of her bed, and her eyes are skittish, wild. It physically pains Charles to think of her impending demise, particularly what it will do to Erik. The other man tries not to show his emotions, but Charles knows them well anyways, knows how Erik adores his daughter, how devastated he'll be knowing that Charles couldn't help her after all.

'But you can.' The thought is a whisper, but he picks up on it anyways. "What do you mean?" he asks the girl. "How can I help, Wanda?"

And so Wanda shows him, shows him a Genosha full of lush gardens and happy, vibrant mutants living in harmony. He sees Erik, regal and tall and broad-shouldered, ruling with a deft by iron hand, his family thriving. Off-world, too, Wanda shows him his other loved ones: Scott, Emma, Logan. They're all happy, so happy; and that's when Wanda drops the ball.

'Can do this ... but you wouldn't be able to come.'

Charles pauses. Sensing his hesitation, Wanda stares at him, through him, and continues: 'The world will be imbalanced. It'll need a sacrifice of something particularly precious to keep everything from lapsing into turmoil again. It needs ...'

"Me." Charles' throat feels dry. If Erik were here, he thinks, he would smirk wryly right now and mutter something about how Charles is "ever the martyr, honestly." Then again, Charles thinks ruefully, Erik would never even let him consider this.

Wanda continues to stare at him, and he looks down. "If I did choose this," he ventures, "Would they know? Would Erik know what I did?"

Wanda shrugs. "He won't know everything, but he'll understand well enough." Charles is frustrated by the vagueness of her response, but he presses on just as politely.

"Will this be ... forever? For everybody? They'll all be happy, truly, really happy?" Longing wells up within him, for himself and for all of the people he knows who have suffered because of his goals and aspirations over the years. "If they'll be at peace, it will be worth it," he murmurs, and risks a glance back at Wanda.

She blinks once. "Yes," she says simply. "They'll be happy."

Charles nods. Then he wheels himself closer to the room's only other occupant, near enough so that their knees touch. "Do it, Wanda," he whispers. He reaches out a shaking hand, placing two fingers against the girl's right temple. "I'll guide you through it."

The white light is the last thing that Charles Xavier ever sees.


	3. Erik Abducts Charles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another small take on this whole era; this time, my take on Erik actually abducting/"abducting" Charles to force his hand in saving Wanda/Genosha.

"They'll think you've abducted me."

"Let them." The bunker is dark with impending twilight. It would have been appropriate to allow Wanda simply to continue residing in her own bedroom, but alas, it is too obvious a hiding place. Erik shakes his head slowly, drawing himself into a short tirade. "If they must think badly of me - more than they already do - in order to save her, it is worth it."

Charles nods. In the corner, perched on a worn couch, sits Wanda, her knees drawn up to her chest, looking skinny and ethereal in the dim light, surrounded by white nightgown. In truth, he could resist this. He's not precisely helpless to Erik's whims, after all; he could say "no," even force Erik's hand. However, in spite of his best judgment, he knows that his conscience won't allow him to allow his former students at the Avengers to do away with Wanda for good, no matter how dangerous she is. No, he thinks, his resolve firm: This is the only way.

Erik holds himself tensely, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. "Memories, now, I think." His gaze is pained as he glances at Charles, and the other man tries to offer him a reassuring glance. Then, he presses two fingers to his temple and closes his eyes, opening his mind. The thoughts of others come easily to him: Callisto ("Charlie! He was right here, I don't understand, where did he go, if anything happened to him ..."); the rest of the Genoshan youth; and then he reaches even further, straining his mind, until he's able to find other familiar psyches: Scott, Logan, Raven. He glimpses what he needs to, double-checks everything carefully for accuracy, and then blinks his way back into consciousness anew.

Erik is watching him carefully. He wheels closer to Wanda, slowly, so that the girl doesn't recoil from him. Her eyes are wide, and he reaches out and places a hopefully comforting hand over hers. "You realize," he says conversationally, though his face is solemn and turned away from Erik's, "that I won't be coming with you."

Erik's head snaps up. "Why?" he asks hoarsely, and Charles turns to see the conflict, the agony in his face.

"Because," Charles replies carefully, "there'll be too much of an imbalance in nature. I'll be altering forces that shouldn't ever be played with, and certainly not to this degree. Making everything good ... without a foil for any of it ... it's not the natural order of things."

Erik closes his eyes, and then opens them again slowly. "Will you die?" he asks quietly, bitterly. "Am I going to have to dig your grave?"

"No, nothing like that, I imagine," Charles says thoughtfully. "But for all intents and purposes, I'll be gone. However, I've a feeling my ... essence won't completely disappear." He watches Erik carefully. "There's really no alternative, my friend," he offers quietly. "It's either this, or Wanda ..."

"I know." Erik swallows painfully. Then, unable to voice his consent, he simply nods. He watches Charles place his hand on Wanda's head, gently, paternally, and works his mouth to form words. "Save her, Charles."

"I will." He thinks he can hear Erik murmur 'I love you' before he throws himself fully into Wanda's tumultuous mind, and smiles to himself. "I love you, too, Erik," he whispers, and then there's nothing left to say.


	4. Charles and Erik Rule Genosha Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, another one. Have been talking to fanaddict over on LJ about the "House of M: Civil War" mini-series, wherein Charles is Magneto's most trusted confidante, and I realized I had a great need to see them ruling Genosha together. So uh, here. Note: All of these "chapters" are meant to be little alternative viewpoints of the House of M. thing, not one cohesive story. Hopefully that isn't terribly confusing; they were all written separately and mostly by accident/because my Internet friends are persuasive jerks.

There are trying aspects of ruling over all of mutantkind. Magneto runs a hand tiredly through his shaggy mane – he'll need to ask Charles to trim it for him soon enough - and stifles a sigh, and then strides purposefully into the meeting room, locking the door behind him with barely a thought.

Charles is already there, sitting on one side of a long table, looking placid and calm. Directly across from him sits a skittish-looking young man, his wrists in manacles. Word of mutant resistance groups in pockets of Genosha have become troublingly more frequent, and though Charles does not approve of the use of force to topple the small power structures before they can grow and become a real problem, he cedes to Magneto's proposal to bring them in "to talk, and maybe negotiate, if we can."

This particular young man is the leader of one of said groups, responsible for some small-scale terrorist warfare that has nonetheless caused Magneto's outland security some unrest. He scowls at Magneto when he enters the room, but is unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. Magneto glances at Charles, who inclines his head ever so slightly. 'I've been reading his mind,' Charles explains briefly, his face impassive. 'He's very angry; his mind is quite tumultuous. He's part of a pretty radical rebellion. They seek active disbandment of the House of Magnus.'

'Of course they do.' Magneto turns to the young man, who grits his teeth. "So tell me why your crew of mutant thugs tried to blow up a Genoshan medical center," he says with practiced casualty.

The young man's eyes dart. "It's not true," he hisses. "We were framed. There are other groups out there with their own agendas. Some of my men and women crossed paths with them. It didn't end amicably." He swallows, and Magneto can see him shaking slightly. "I beseech you, Lord Magnus, have mercy."

'It's not true.' The voice is soft and only meant for Magneto, but he trusts it with every fiber of his being. Squaring his shoulders, he smirks at the quaking mutant, who stares up at him nervously. "An admirable sentiment," Magneto tells him, "but you've made one very crucial mistake, my friend: Never lie to a telepath."

The mutant's eyes widen. He blinks up at Magneto, and then his gaze shifts accusingly towards Charles, whose face is graced with the smallest of smiles. "You," he snarls, and makes a complicated hand gesture, summoning his own powers, his intent to attack, to harm.

Almost boredly, Magneto reaches out a hand. Suddenly, the mutant stops in his tracks, his hands stayed by Magneto's firm grip on the chains around his wrists, as well as the other bits of metal on his person. He struggles wildly. "What is this?" he gasps, and Magneto smiles grimly.

"You're even more of a young fool than I thought," he says. "Your second mistake was attempting to hurt my telepath. Charles," he says, glancing only briefly at the other man. "Summon security, will you? I believe they'll be getting well-acquainted with this young man very soon."

*

Later, as the sun sets, Magneto stands on the private balcony overlooking his kingdom, closing his eyes and breathing in the warm, sweet air. He senses Charles before he feels the other man's arms wrap around his waist, but sighs gratefully at the touch.

Charles arches his neck to rest his chin on the taller man's shoulder. "Busy day," he comments. Magneto turns and smiles at him, and Charles allows himself to be tugged by the arm around to the front of the other man's person, allows Magneto to collect him in his arms. "No rest for the restless, I suppose," he continues, and Magneto smiles and kisses the crown of Charles' bald head.

"So long as you're here," he says softly, tightening his grip around the smaller man, holding him like a precious bundle, "we can handle anything."

Charles smiles up at him. The high collar of his traditional Genoshan robes comes up to his jaw, but he leans into Magneto's touch as the other man's fingers dip beneath his collar, stroking at the soft skin of his neck. "I love you, Erik," he says sincerely.

Erik kisses him on the mouth. "Mine," he whispers possessively. "Forever."

Charles' smile is beatific. "Yes," he confirms happily. "I'm yours, Erik. All yours. For as long as you want me to be."

"Forever," Erik repeats firmly, and Charles laughs, breathlessly, because Erik kisses him again, sliding his tongue into Charles' mouth, making it clear to whom Charles belongs. "Need you, Charles," he murmurs fiercely, and Charles strokes his cheek lovingly.

"I know. You have me. Always. Now," he says, grasping lightly at one of Erik's hands, "shall we continue this inside?"

Erik smiles and nods, and then they do just that.


	5. Erik's Suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S'okay, I found pretty good summaries of "Civil War: House of M" on the Uncanny X-Men Web site. In particular, Parts 2 and 3 include a) Charles' being crippled; b) Charles' murder by Bucky Barnes; and c) Magneto's murder of Bucky with his own motherfucking shield, but all five parts are pretty interesting. Anyways, it inspired this, as fanaddict requested. Warning: CHARACTER DEATH.

Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, head of the House of Magnus, ruler of Genosha, leader of mutantkind, has lost the will to live. When he bothers to exit his rooms - the kitchen staff would swear that he's already dead, except that his meal plates keep coming back with nibbles of food gone; not to mention, Lord Magnus' recent penchant for drinking himself into oblivion in the evenings - it's almost a guarantee to find him in a corner of the kingdom gardens, staring at the same wall of concrete. Though easily located, anyone without a death wish knows not to interrupt what is commonly agreed to be deep, unbearable mourning, grief for a loss that can never be recovered.

The memorial is not particularly attractive; though elegant, it is too large; there is too much roughness in the midst of all the natural beauty of the Genoshan fauna that the stone slab dwarfs. Still, it is the spot to where Erik returns without fail, barely glancing at anything or anyone else anymore.

(He'd insisted on digging the grave himself, by hand, his hands raw and bleeding. Afterwards, his robes were torn and soiled with dirt and dried blood - both his and otherwise - but he refused any and all attempts at medical treatment and comfort, and word is that he slept in the same clothes for days, too grief-stricken to care.)

It's been weeks, months. He's given it time, accepted the admonishments and well-wishings and the concerned glances of his remaining inner circle with barely concealed rage, and still, nothing's helped. Instead, he mires himself in guilt over how much Charles had suffered, sacrificed for him. He remembers ruefully thinking that Charles' crushed legs would be the worst casualty. He remembers how Charles had taken his newfound handicap in stride, how even after he'd learned first-hand the cost of justice, he'd still persisted in trying to be fair and diplomatic. Erik remembers their final argument; it physically sickens him to recall walking away while Charles blandly admonished him that his telepathy wasn't working at full capacity, and - the irony - that Erik should be careful. He'd had no idea that the next time they spoke, Charles would be lying on the ground, bleeding out, weakly begging Magneto to remember that he's better than his rage, his vengeance.

He remembers how it felt to kill Barnes, how good it had been to control the metal disc that had sliced through his neck like a whisper. Worst of all, perhaps, he remembers thinking that it hadn't been nearly enough to empty him of his compelling need for revenge; he remembers thinking that nothing would, that, for all of his speechifying and fighting and victory over tiny battles, in the end, he had lost the war a long time ago.

The ground is cold as he kneels in his usual spot, not caring that he's getting dirt on his clothing. He's never been one to sit and talk to the dead, though he's had plenty of opportunities; if he really wanted Charles to hear him, he thinks, Charles could probably still, somehow, read his thoughts. As he prepares himself for what he is about to do, his mind is fairly blank.

'Erik, you're not really going to do this.' He's pretty sure he's hallucinating, but it's a nice delusion, in any case. He tugs the knife from his robes and unwraps it from its makeshift fabric holder. 'Erik,' the voice in his head says again, and it sounds like an admonishment.

'I am doing this. I have to, Charles. I can't lead anymore. I can't do anything anymore except wonder which choices I could have made to keep you alive. But since that can't be changed, this is the next best thing.'

'What about our goals, though, Erik? Our hopes for mutantkind? Will you give them all up, give up your chance to steer them in the direction you've always hoped they would go in? You're so close now. Is this all there is for you now?'

'Yes.' Neither of them say anything for several minutes, and then Erik is levitating the knife - Bucky's knife; Erik has washed Charles' blood off, but the metal is still covered with Xavier's essence, with Barnes' abominable murder of Erik's best friend - admiring the way the light glints off of the edge. Slowly, he positions the blade towards him, aimed at his heart.

'Erik, please.' Charles' voice is achingly close, and Magneto closes his eyes.

'I'll be there soon,' he murmurs, and he thinks he can hear Charles scream, and then, as the blood pools around him, he can clearly see Charles' face, his kind eyes, the hand he proffers, his sad smile as he greets Erik.

'Oh, my friend,' Charles sighs, but Erik's hand is a warm weight attached to his now, and he can't deny that he's missed this. Later, Wanda will find the chilled body of her father lying in front of the Xavier memorial, will bend down and close his eyes and admire sadly through her tears how peaceful he (finally) looks; and though she won't voice the thought aloud, deep down, she'll think that this isn't all that surprising.


	6. Charles the Child Stalks Erik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was gokuma who first suggested this: Erik is stalked on Genosha by a child version of Charles. Warning: Character death.

The child is small, almost mousy-looking, with soft-looking hair and brilliant blue eyes. He can't be more than about eight or nine, and when he first approaches Erik in the gardens, looking small and innocuous and almost ethereal, Erik should balk at him or demand to know from whence he came - he doesn't recognize him from around the palace - but something compels him to simply let the boy stay.

Erik doesn't speak to him at first, nor does the child seem compelled to talk. For three days, they simply seem to inhabit the gardens at the same time, until finally, the boy says softly, "Why do you come here every day, Mister?"

Erik's eyebrow quirks. "My name is Lord Magnus," he tells the boy gently; the boy's face remains impassive, but if Erik's not imagining things, he thinks he might see just a hint of a smile. "Why do you come here?" he asks, deflecting the question away from himself.

The boy's eyes are so, so bright, he realizes. "I come here because of you," he answers, and Erik blinks, not expecting this. "You just seem so lonely and sad," the boy continues.

Erik looks down. "I don't think I'll ever be happy again," he says honestly, half to himself. The hand on his shoulder is small and warm, and he isn't sure why he doesn't shrug it off, but he doesn't.

*

After this carries on for some time, Erik finally demands to know the child's origins; he begins to ask around at the palace, but nobody seems to know. Everybody has been giving him quite a wide berth already, ever since Charles' death, and this seems only to add to the small smiles and worried glances that Erik sees out of the corner of his eye.

Once, he tries to feed the child, to demand that the boy comes to the kitchens with him for a hot meal, but the boy steadfastly refuses. However, he does trail after Erik on an occasion as he takes long strides to get to his private quarters, which he is, for some reason, embarrassed to let the boy see when they seem so stuffy and lived in; he goes about opening doors and windows and tossing clothing into wayward corners of the rooms, and the boy just stands there watching him, calm as always.

Eventually, the child walks towards Erik's bed, reaching out and strokin the wine red coverlet with small, pale fingers. "You miss him, don't you?" he asks, and Erik jumps, because it's like the boy can just tell that Erik painstakingly sleeps only on one side of the mattress every night, just in case ... well, just because. "It's okay to feel sad," the child continues. "But not all the time, right?"

Erik smiles ruefully, because this seems like such matter-of-fact, generally useless but ultimately endearing Charles logic. "Probably not all of the time," he concedes, and the boy smiles slightly.

*

"Mister, what are you doing?" the boy asks. It's several weeks later, and Erik has taken to cleaning and sharpening and polishing the knife that Bucky Barnes murdered Charles with obsessively. The boy's eyes are unusually critical when he sees the Master of Magnetism perched on the bed, staring at the long, silver blade.

"It's none of your concern," Erik tells him, more sharply than usual. He looks up, and his weary eyes bore into the boy's young, concerned ones. "Go away," Erik says, making a shooing motion. "This is not something you should see."

The boy flees, and Erik does not see him for a long time.

*

He decides to do it in the gardens, because then he can stare at Charles' name carved into the large stone centerpiece while he does it, just in case there's any doubt as to where he wants to be in the afterlife. For some reason, he isn't surprised to see the boy again, for the first time since he told him to leave.

"He doesn't want you to do this," the child says sadly. He doesn't touch Erik this time, but looks as though he wants to. "He very much wishes you could learn to live without him."

Erik frowns at the weapon in his lap, the blade gleaming. "I cannot," he says simply. "It is too much. I just need to go where he is. This world is not for me anymore if it is not for him."

The boy's face crumples. "I'm sorry," he whispers; and then, before Erik can stop him or move out of the way, he throws his small arms around the older man, hugging him tightly. Erik is pretty sure he hears the child murmur, "I'm sorry, Erik," but then the child is pulling away and kind of bows in front of him a little. "Quickly," he says softly, and watches Erik heft the knife without using his hands. "Do it quickly, so there won't be much pain."

"Thank you, Charles," Erik tells him, and then he closes his eyes, and plunges the knife into his chest.


End file.
